Cold Blooded III: Sins and Sanctions (Nick McCarty Assassin Series Book 3) (34 page)

“Nope. He won’t even know we’re nearby. I’m going to hack into his BMW’s Connected-Drive in-car internet system. Then we’ll make sure Mr. Dansing’s BMW is at the Wharf as we suspect. We’ll drive over and keep an eye on it until he goes home to San Mateo. We’ll track his car to his home. First though, I need to get busy on hacking into the BMW. I’d like you to find out everything you can about his house in San Mateo, including satellite photos of his grounds, and the blueprints. After I hack into the BMW, I’ll start going over the satellite footage for the crime scene. That’s a shot in the dark, but it would be cute to turn in the case with damning evidence. When they arrive to take Mr. Dansing into custody, he will have committed suicide in angst over his many murders.”

“That would be the best. It will get you points for being straightforward helpful with the police, plus keep suspicion you took an active hand in it at a minimum.”

“That’s the plan, Payaso. The only unknown factor is why the hell he’s stealing a car, doing a drive-by on us, and remaining in the area for this long. Also, I doubt if anyone’s helping him from inside the PD. That would mean he was watching when Dickerson brought me to the crime scene. I wonder if he heard anything. We need to revisit the crime scene, and check for a cam he planted. I know the cops weren’t looking for a cam.”

“Should we finish doing the investigating, or do you want to check the crime scene first?”

“We’ll do the prep work first, then the crime scene. I’ll get a trace on him now, so we know if he retrieves his Beamer before we get done,” Nick answered.

An hour later, Nick’s laptop warned him the BMW was being driven. “Dansing’s on the move.”

Gus finished putting together the last of his file on Dansing’s house and grounds. “Is he headed for home?”

“Sort of.” Nick turned his laptop so Gus could see. “I think he’s coming to my home.”

“This guy really is creepy. What do you think he’s planning?” Gus watched the BMW thread its way through traffic toward Nick’s street.

“Case my house for a later visit would be my guess. We’ll get to see what he uses for a ploy to get inside.”

Nick and Gus went downstairs with Deke in their wake. Rachel and Tina were talking in the kitchen.

“You won’t believe this, but the serial killer’s on his way here to the house, Rach. It would be best if you and Tina go into the safe-room for now.”

“You’re not going to kill him here, are you?”

“What about if he wants to kill me and Gus?”

“One thing I know, Gomez,” Tina said, “killing you is not a skill this baby killer has. C’mon, girlfriend, show me your neat safe-room.”

“Right this way.” Rachel gave Nick a kiss, and led Tina to the upstairs safe-room. “C’mon Deke.”

“Is he parking yet, Nick?” Gus looked over his shoulder. “Oh yeah… right out front in his own Beamer. This guy is something else. Do you really think he’s casing your home? He already knows about Jean. He proved that with the drive-by.”

“I know.” The doorbell rang, and Nick went to answer it with Gus at his side. The man he had seen in the Mazda earlier now stood on his porch, smiling a happy-go-lucky greeting. Nick assumed his confused but interested persona. “Hi… can I help you?”

Oliver Dansing gave Nick a small wave of his hand. At a couple inches over six feet tall, with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail, he seemed in his late thirties to Nick. Clean shaven but for a small goatee, Dansing looked well-muscled in his jeans, tennis shoes, and blue windbreaker. Nick smiled politely at the wave.

“I’m here to see the owner of this wonderful house,” Dansing stated in a cheerful baritone voice. “I love this porch and your enclosed upper deck overlooking everything below.”

“I’m the owner. I like it too, for nearly the same reasons. Are you visiting nearby?”

“No. I’m very interested in buying this house. Are you possibly in the market to sell? I saw your place, and I felt compelled to stop. I would not have been able to forgive myself if I didn’t at least ask if it might be coming on the market.”

“I’m afraid not. My wife and I are very happy here,” Nick answered carefully, sizing his prey for a new plan flitting through his head. “Homes in this area are escalating in value at an incredible rate. A real estate agent stated a couple weeks ago in a phone call I could expect to get a million and a half if I did put it on the market.”

The figure startled Dansing, who had no intention of buying it anyway. “A million and a half? Wow… I was thinking more in the $750,000 bracket. You must have more than meets the eye here, Sir.”

Nick nodded amiably, chuckling a bit for Dansing’s appreciation. “Yes, I do. I have two safe-rooms built into the house, one upstairs, and one downstairs. The real estate agent was very impressed with those two additions.”

Surprise showed plainly on Dansing’s face. “Two safe-rooms? You mean the kind where a family may hide from burglars, and those awful smash and grab hoodlums?”

“Exactly. We are safe from nearly any threat with our safe-rooms and security system,” Nick said, baiting the hook with more chum. “Well… it was nice talking with you, but I-”

“Please…” Dansing held up a hand. “I have always thought about having one of those safe-rooms installed in my own dwelling. Would it be possible to see yours? My name is Oliver Dansing. I can show you my driver’s license and credit cards, or anything to put you at ease. I think it’s marvelous you would protect your wife and young daughter in such an incredibly thorough manner.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know I have a daughter, Mr. Dansing?”

Dansing grinned with practiced ease. “That’s easy to explain. When I came down last week, hunting for real estate in the area, I saw a young blonde haired girl playing with a dog on your porch. I of course assumed she was your daughter.”

Nick visibly relaxed as Gus faded more into the background. “Yes. That was my daughter, Jean, and her dog Deke. I guess I could show you my downstairs safe-room. It’s very state of the art with everything imaginable inside, including surveillance feeds from my security cams all around the perimeter of the house. I believe in security.”

“As do I,” Dansing replied. “How is it that you need such intricate precautions? I would have figured this area is so upscale you wouldn’t even need to lock your doors at night.”

“I wish.” Nick sighed, and opened his screen door to Dansing. “C’mon in, Mr. Dansing. I’ll show you around if you’d like. I’m a writer. My name’s Nick McCarty. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”

Nick could tell Dansing had not garnered that knowledge, which meant his identity had not been given out by anyone on the police force. Dansing had indeed filmed the crime scene. Nick held out his hand, and Dansing shook it as he came inside. “This is my business partner, Gus Nason.”

Dansing shook Gus’s extended hand. “I’m sorry, Nick. I don’t know many authors. I mostly read non-fiction. What is it you write?”

“Pulp fiction mostly,” Nick admitted with a self-deprecating flair. “They’re popular enough to warrant my extra security measures though. C’mon, and I’ll show you.”

Nick led his guest to the safe-room downstairs, opening the panel access, and keying in his fingerprint entry. “It’s fingerprint entry. Go on, and have a look around, Mr. Dansing. I think you’ll find this is everything you could hope for in regard to security.”

“Call me, Ollie, Nick. Thank you.” The unsuspecting Dansing walked past Nick into the spacious safe-room, unknowing he was walking into the last place on earth he would ever enter willingly.

Dansing struggled mightily at first as Nick’s iron grip put him in a sleeper hold he could not break or alter. Nick jammed him down on his tailbone, slowly applying more pressure to Dansing’s throat until the man went limp in his arms. Nick stood, bringing over a chair while Gus watched the serial killer. Nick and Gus then plopped their captive into the chair, binding his hands and ankles to the armrest chair with duct tape. As a final measure, Nick looped a duct tape binding tightly around Dansing’s middle to the chair backing. After applying a strip to his guest’s mouth, Nick straightened away with an audible sigh of contentment.

“Sorry, Gus. I changed all of our plans on the fly. This prick is the whole package. I’m not letting him wander around, especially with him knowing Jean. I’ll call to Rachel, so they know it’s safe to resume their discussion in the kitchen. We’ll stay here with Eggbert, and get a few questions answered.”

Gus acknowledged the change of plan without more than a grunt. “Sounds good to me, Muerto. When he mentioned Jean, I could nearly feel the bad vibes radiating out of you. Should I contact Paul?”

“Good thinking. Yep. Put Paul in the loop. If he thinks of anything I don’t during questioning, he can jump in with you to make it known. I don’t often bother saying this, Payaso, but I’m going to enjoy this.”

“I don’t often say this, Muerto, but I’m going to enjoy this more.”

Nick called by intercom to the upstairs safe-room. “You ladies can do anything you wish now. We have the infamous serial killer in our capable hands.”

“I bet you do,” Rachel replied. It was no use pretending she was married to Casper Milquetoast. Rachel knew the arriving killer had not a prayer of ever overcoming Nick, or bending him to his will in some unseen manner. “Tina and I will be in the kitchen if you need anything, Nick.”

“Thanks, babe.”

In less than fifteen minutes, Gus read Paul into the op, and put him on speaker.

“Good Lord, Nick. Thank you for this. Do you have a way to interrogate this guy and still make plans according to what you probably had in mind?”

Nick laughed. “Are you kidding? C’mon, Paul. You’ve been out in the field before with shitheads like this Dansing guy. The perverted fucks have the pain threshold of a girl-scout, and that’s an insult to the girl-scouts.”

“Good one,” Paul replied. “Whenever you’re ready, my friend.”

Nick woke up the unconscious Dansing with a wetted washcloth. It would be the most compassionate thing he would ever experience. Nick watched Dansing groan into conscious realization of where he was. Nick then undid his jeans belt, and roughly tore his jeans down to Dansing’s ankles. Dansing hummed in shock, awe, and protest behind the duct tape over his mouth. He tried kicking out, bucking up and down, wrenching from side to side, as Nick and Gus enjoyed the performance from beyond his sight, making no noise while Dansing did his chair dance. When Dansing slowed to a stop, gasping heavily while drawing in air through his nose, Nick smacked him on top of his head. Nick and Gus moved into Dansing’s view then, waving at him cheerily.

“Hi, Sweetpea,” Nick said. “I’ll bet a big bad serial killer like yourself thought he was just the baddest thing on the planet. I’ll bet you were, as long as you were killing young blonde haired girls. I’m sorry, sweetie, but those days are at an end. Gus and I are here to introduce you to the punishment phase of what you’ve done. Naturally, you’re going to tell us we’ve made a big mistake, right sweetie?”

Dansing honked, grunted, jerked his head in violent agreement with Nick’s statement, and finally simply hummed loudly in wild-eyed pleading form. Nick slapped his cheek gently, while ripping off the duct tape over Dansing’s mouth.

“He’s so cute… isn’t he, Gus?”

Gus didn’t play the game as well as Nick. He stared down at the killer of twenty-six young girls with unbridled hatred… and anticipation. “Yeah, Muerto… he’s cute as a button.”

“I’ll bet you liked my daughter Jean. She fits your profile so well, it’s like you were made for each other. Unfortunately for you, I’m her Dad,” Nick said. “When you referenced her in a statement, you upset me. I’ll have to take my pound of flesh for you making me upset, Ollie. You wouldn’t want to know how anxious my partner Payaso here is for me to take that pound of flesh. He loves Jean like his own daughter. That you even mentioned her name makes him crazy.”

Gus reached out, pinched Dansing’s nose, and kept the unrelenting grip increasing by the second. Dansing screamed in spite of having to gulp air through his mouth. “Good Lord, Ollie… I want to help you slowly into the afterlife myself. I don’t have the imagination my brother El Muerto has. I defer to him in all aspects of inflicting pain. You intrigue us, so we’re going to ask you some questions to help our understanding about pathetic shitheads like you in our own minds. I’d advise answering everything willingly, or your demise will I’m sure be legendary.”

Nick grinned in Dansing’s face, moving into view. “Oh yeah… legendary… such a neat word, but nowhere near covering what I have in mind. Let me give you a small illustration, tough guy, serial killer.”

Nick pinched the underside of Dansing’s ball sack with his gloved hand, increasing pressure until Dansing’s scream became a wall of abject pain. He released his ministrations. “That was your only demo, asshole! You will do anything and everything I say to do without question. Do you understand?”

Dansing shrieked his acceptance and will to do anything Nick asked. Nick abandoned his plan as he reached for Dansing again. Gus hugged his partner to him, carrying Nick away out of hearing. “You’ve got this, brother!” Gus whispered fiercely. “Don’t lose your edge now! We need his suicide note, a few questions of clarification, and then we stage him as you envisioned.”

Nick’s tensed body relaxed slowly, Gus’s plea filtering slowly into his head. He wanted Dansing in a way he seldom felt in intensity. Nick knew right from wrong. Sometimes, he didn’t care. The background of Dansing murdering twenty-six look-a-likes for Jean, along with Dansing’s face on approach at his house had triggered a safety valve inside Nick he had trouble controlling. He patted Gus’s arm.